


Micheal The Vampire Slayer

by darklobo



Series: Michael The vampire Slayer [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Undeniable by Madeline Sheehan
Genre: Alpha Males, Bikers, F/F, F/M, Hell God, M/M, Multi, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklobo/pseuds/darklobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry to disappoint but this is a fanfiction inspired and influenced by Joss Whedon’s Buffy the vampire slayer and the<br/>Undeniable series by Madeline Sheehan.</p><p>All characters are Orignal.</p><p>Plot (Well now, I can't really give that away, so more of a what if?) </p><p>Buffy Summers:  “What do you mean, Giles?”</p><p>Rupert Giles: “That alternately there are more universes, dimensions similar to ours, yet very…or slightly opposite.”</p><p>Willow Rosenberg: “You mean where the creepy crawlies are good and the scoobies are like… Bad people?”</p><p>Rupert Giles: “Amongst other things or… Consider an entire world where slayers are male and not female.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Micheal The Vampire Slayer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Buffy The Vampire Slayer](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/158255) by Joss Whedon. 
  * Inspired by [Undeniable](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/158264) by Madeline Sheehan. 



> Please, I'm not perfect, my English sucks because it's not my first langue, my tense is a nightmare and my grammar is... well evil. But I try.

**When the Spider Bites**

 

 **As I walk** trough the valley of the shadow of death—because seriously, this was a valley of dead! All lifeless and soundless in the cemetery. One week since we moved to Willow Hill and nothing. “No-o-thing!” I shout out to the night. Only the crickets responded.

_Chirp…chirp…chirp._

My pocket buzzed.

My cheeks stung from the day’s sunburn as I grinned down at the text from Misty.

 

 

Misty: I just did something bad

very very very bad.

 

_Me: Oh, dear_

 

Misty: I did

 And it was with one click

 

_Me: how many books did you buy?_

 

Misty: noooo not books

 

 

_Me: ....body parts?_

 

Misty: Ohhhh

Nooo

I just spent all my allowance

all of it

in one click

on freaking candles!!!!!

 

_Me: You’re a mess, you know that._

 

Misty: A good smelling waxy mess

LOL!!!

 

I snapped to attention when a twig cracked in the silence and held my breath while the wind howled a silent name through the trees. The moon was veiled behind a thick blanket of smoky vapors in the night sky. The light out here was low. My senses were on alert, beseeching for the danger to come. I breathed for it—the rush, the fight, the slaughter.

It was what I was chosen for.

Death.

A sufficient vane against the darkness. And yet I was also a part of that very darkness.

It seeped from my soul and welled up in my bones to pulse through my veins.

_But how can you fight the darkness when there’s no darkness to be fought?_

I shrugged and pushed forward through the graveyard. Patrolling seemed damned stupid and boring when there was no action.

I stopped when I saw him, my shoulders sagging in annoyance. The fresh ones always got themselves stuck. He squirmed like a worm, wiggling and jiggling as he tried to squeeze out of the hole he had dug for himself. Maybe if he lost the beer belly he could have climbed out easily. With quiet steps I made my way over, watching him burrow his claws into the grass to push himself out, but he didn’t succeed. He snarled in defeat. The soil was too fresh and all he was doing were clenching loose clumps of dirt. The dew that had decanted throughout the night was already making some of the earth stick together, placing him right in the predicament where he couldn’t just burst out of his grave like some Hell beast, all epic and arduous, growling and spitting…

 _Now_ that _would be a fight worth my time._

I folded my left arm under my right while tapping the stake impatiently against my thigh. “Is this gonna take all night?”

He looked up at me. Yellow eyes glowered from under his creased and jutted brows, his forehead crinkled in a vile look, his face distorted and smeared with dirt and soil. Like all those newly turned, he had yet to understand what had happened, nor did he yet know what his appearance now looked like.

  “Alright, buddy.” I crouched and grasped a fistful of his dirty dress shirt, plucking him from the earth like root vegetable out of the ground and placed him down on his feet.

“Thanks,” he grunted and began to dust his jacket’s arms of earth. I rolled my eyes at the smirk plastered on his face. He was completely denying the fact that I had just lifted an overweight lump of dead meat from a hole he could hardly get himself out of. They’re all like this, with their superiority complex, always so smug and arrogant. I almost just staked him right there and then but…my skin was tight, itching for it.

“So… We fighting?” I raised my left eyebrow.

“Why would I want to fight?” his voice was shrill pitch against the silence, a squeaky fat mouse I wanted to pop like a zit.

I flared my nostrils in annoyance and coiled my right hand’s fingers into a fist. “Because,” I snapped, grabbed him at the arm and yanked him forward, squeezing my palm tight, muscles vexed in my right forearm, I ripped my hand through the air, colliding my fist to his gut. The force sent him spinning around and stumbling across the grass to the ground, face smacking right into a gravestone.

“You can’t just hit people,” he chucked, pushing himself up and turned to me, his face boiling with anger, lips peeled back and vibrating in a snarl, presenting those nasty teeth.

“You are not a people! You bad, me badass, we fight, you die. Capisce.”

He hissed before he launched himself at me, running, his gut hanging and swaying to and fro from the momentum… I closed my eyes and shook my head, such a dumb night. I huffed and snapped open my lids, finding him gone. I stood still, listening for noise. The dark was too damn quiet, any normal person would have been all too thrill at the peace of the evening, but for me, it was worrisome. Knowing the true world we lived in, and not finding the monsters hidden in it, scared me.

The reminiscence was a cold tongue lapping over my skin, hobnailing in little pebbles creating gooseflesh, _“Never, never underestimate your opponent,”_ Sam’s voice echoed in my mind.

“Or your watcher.” I jeered under my breath and pursed my lips in a tight line. The memory of Sam was still too raw inside to reflect on. He was a good watcher, my first, I honestly believed he would be my only. 

A roar cut behind me before he pounced on me, an arm hooked around my neck squeezing my throat. I had already known this was going to be an easy fight. I bent forward, using his own drive and weight against him and sent him flipping, landing on his back with loud grunt spilling from his lips.

I dropped my knees at the sides of his head, arms raised high in the air, gripping the stake with both hands and plow down, forcing the wooden spike into his chest, past his ribcage to his heart.

I pushed up on my Convers and kicked at the dirt in frustration. Why, God, why did we have to move to silly, little shit town that didn’t even have damn Starbucks! Instead, it had a diner, one of those prehistoric ones you always see in 80s horror movies. With red vinyl seating covered in old and yellowing plastic. The plastic half slanted from having too many butt lips warming it.

I gazed up into the sky, observing the fat silver Queen of the Night reveal herself from behind the clouds. A tremor palpitated down my muscles, a burning sensation of hunger. My skin felt uncomfortable and tight, and my gut twisted in disappointment, “Not gone happen tonight.” I sighed.

I was reeling with energy, could feel it beat in my palms, taste it as my mouth bleed copper from biting my lip.

It was always there, an endless desire of bloodlust to kill, to slaughter, to end and feed the darkness worming below my skin. And yet again, with the night almost gone, it was left starved. And when it hadn’t had its morsel of violence, the blood thirst seethed inside me to ferment into black sludge in my veins. 

I knew what I needed to still this pulsating storm in my blood before it vent.

I needed to dance. Music was the only other outlet that helped me let go, that could numb the darkness and make my soul breathe.

With a frown on my face, I considered the possibility that maybe I’ve been in the wrong place, doing a pointless search. I stared at Willow Hill down in the valley, the center of town bright in the distance—-might be the darkness of this town didn’t play by the rules. It couldn’t hurt, this might be their playground, but I was still the hunter.

 _Game on bitches._ _Papi’s coming._

 

I wondered through town, passed small restaurants and that damn diner still open, only a handful of patrons occupied inside. It was too active here for my prey, too out in the open for them to wonder and draw attention to themselves. I needed some place blacker, less obvious, more—I halted and bit my lip, a wicked smile making the corners of my mouth tingle.

_Perfect._

I stared down the narrow alley with poor to little light, but beyond it, where it opened into another street. People were gathered outside, cars and motorcycles lined some of the parking spaces. A miss-matched mixed-crowd of middle-aged and younger. Some stood in line to get into the warehouse building, others in conversation outside. As I stepped down the alley and out the other side, I could see the sign above the entrance. _The Nest_. Its neon light shone on the two burly bouncers station at the door, letting people in.

As I approached, I paid attention to those that strolled past me and others that had just come out of the club. These were just regular people, unaware of the obscurity in the world, enjoying their normal lives on a Thursday night.

I stood in line occasionally peaking beyond the waiting club patrons, eyeing the two bouncers. _Shit_ , of course, they were checking ID’s. I spun to leave, knowing I had a flat slim chance of trying to pass as someone older with my fresh-faced appearance.

A thundering roar of motorcycles singed the hairs on my neck like live wires as they drove into the parking space.

I swallowed as they climbed off, there was something majestic and animalistic about them… Well, any biker for that matter, something about a man’s ass in leather, just ticked all my boxes. These beast, though, were huge, minacious looking with their abundant tattoos and leather jackets, shit-kickers I was sure had claimed quite a number of teeth and…human skulls. Until I saw the colors on their jackets and those who only wore their under cuts. The Black Reapers. A frisson tingled over my skin and I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to think about this right now. I stepped out of line still with my lids firmly shut, walking away.

It all became clear in that moment, why we moved here, why dad was so bent on us moving right the hell here. A whiff of sweat, leather and cigarette smoke burned my nostrils as I passed them. I kept walking, ignoring them, using my senses to guide me, feeling my surroundings with my gut till the sound pulsing through the club entrance became a dull gray eco.

The squeak of a swing door opening ripped through the night, drawing my attention as someone slipped back in, leaving the door to slowly drift close.

I caught it just in time with my shoe, pulled it back and stepped into the dark murk of pulsing hot electrified air.

The club was a rectangle, split into four sections, a dance floor marked by overcrowded people, brushing up against one another, alive to the spell of the music. There was a substantial stage in the front part of the club, but currently remained unoccupied. Yellow and green lights throbbed along with the beat from LED lasers onto the crowd. A fog machine occasionally spitting a haze into the air over them. The atmosphere was laced with sweat, desire and cigarette smoke. The bar stood more or less in the center, a square, four barmen to man each face. Behind it was a seating area of worn out leather couches and tables, the light there a little more abounded. To one side against the wall was a wide staircase of welded steel, seeming to be the only access to the deck atop the bar and seating area that overlooking the dancing crowd. The staircase was managed by a grim looking red-haired man in a leather cut, a group of women trying to gain access, some even cupping the brute’s groin in their attempts. My only assumption was that the deck was VIP property for the Reaps. I glanced over the space again, noticing a door on the right side with the words RESTRICTED on it.

As I pried the club, seeking the darkest spot to hide and stalk from, eyes were watching me. A sting whispering over my skin, and for the first time since I was chosen and the darkness had taken residence in my veins, I shiver at the sensation.

_So, the hunter had finally become the prey._

I curled my fingers around the hem of my leather jacket, forming fists and casually moved to the spot I had seen earlier.

“Nice leather,” a deep voice, dark and gruff rumbled behind me. A hand gripped onto my collar before he spun me around and shoved me back against the wall into the shadowed space.

I couldn’t breathe as his glower cut over me. Those eyes held destruction and wrath in them.  I swallowed, the blood in my veins muck moving at a snail’s pace. This one was giving off a deadly vibe from his tense frame, those muscles volatile and ready to detonate. He wasn’t nearly as large as some of those who had stopped in the club’s parking lot, but he was still a monstrously big man.

 “You’re new,” he stated in a rough tone and braced himself against the wall with his left hand. His thick forearm tensed and protruded with inky veins, looking more like tattooed dick skin. The LED lights deemed it acceptable to wash red on us, giving a luminescence to his golden skin and light blond arm hairs.

My gaze linger over his ragged face, he had a strong prominent chin, a thick but not yet beard of growth along his hard jaws, completely no grace to his nose from being broken too many times, those deep brows with thin light eyebrows, shadowed his sweltering gaze. There was an intense governance to his face, an untidiness one couldn’t quite place but was drawn to. His lips were pure, undiluted sin.

 “What makes you think I’m new?” I avoided his gaze, focusing on his thick neck, a fat jugular pulsing wildly in his throat. He was a beautiful beast, despite his virile, tyrannical mien or this volcanic presence he permutated round him.

He grunted, a rush of warm breath lapped the side of my face, and leaned close. His lips and teeth skimmed my skin as he spoke. “My club. My town.” He moved to my ear. “I get to know when a new pretty walks my streets.”

I gulped when he licked his fat tongue along the palpitating vein in my neck, swept in and took my earlobe between his teeth and… The bastard didn’t bite… He goddamn suckled on my ear like it was honey. His mouth warm, wet and deadly. A shiver slithered in my blood, breath filled my lungs to oxidize my brain matter. My body went numb at his caress. Something was wrong inside me, something… Strong, calloused fingers grabbed my wrists, as he pulled away, and pinned them to the wall, his big hands on either side of my face, holding me captive, his presence a heartbeat between us. His whiskey breath wafted over my skin, tinted whit the tang of spicy tobacco. The type you chewed, not smoked.

We stared at each other for some time, just stood there and stared. It was stupid, uncomfortable but also in the same breath suffocating. It chocked something from my bones that no one should be able to choke.

 Lights played around us to the tune of the music, the sharp lines in his ragged, hard face stained in different colors as the second song ended and the third began.

I licked my lips. “Do you dance?”

His eyes narrowed, mouth pulled into a rigid line. “Never.”

“What if I decided to kiss you?” It was small, minute even, a twitch under his left eye that rippled down the faded scar on his cheek, past the small flare of his nostrils to curl at the corner of his lips before it was gone.

“That wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.”

“Why?” I poked at his statement and leaned closer. “Frightened I might bite?” I brought my mouth close to his, tasting his breath on my tongue, his death grip cutting the blood flow in my wrist. A sweat tear glistened, ruby red, on his brow and slithered down the side of his face along his cheek and jaw into his scruff. “Scared it might hurt?” I ghosted my lips over his, his golden scruff scraping my chin. “Or is the Big Bad Wolf terrified he might like it?”

A rush of heated air blasted from his nose. His frame shook, the nerve under his eye wildly jerking.

“Sorry,” I pulled back, mapping my gaze across the white tank, drenched with sweat between his cut. It stuck to every curve and mold of his hairy, barrel chest, his protruding nipples and his chisel stomach.

His rough fingers squeezed my wrist, sparking actual pain in my bones before he pulled my hands off the wall and laid them over each massive shoulder. Those clever fingers grabbed my hips greedily, embracing my flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He stepped forward, trapping me back against the wall. He flared his nostrils, a slow swallow rocked down his throat while his Adam’s apple moved under rough, uneven skin.

He was so close now I could feel him—all of him, hard…everywhere—pressing against me and—the world ended, it froze, everything bleed and blurred in violent and silent eruption as his rough lips demanded mine. His tongue snaked in, flicking, fondling, asking for more entry, and against the trembling fear, infecting every pour and molecule in my being, I opened for him. Allowing him to taste me.

The magnetism of this man was unreal, magical, eerie and preternatural and yet…

He was just a mere human. I could smell it on him. Taste it between his lips. Feel it on his tongue as he dragged me against his solid build and deepened his kiss.

I grasped his bicep. Warm, greased and inked-stained skin infected my fingers. I snaked my left arm in under his cut and tank top and claw my fingers into his warm rock-hard flesh and marked his bare skin. His thick muscle bulged and twitched under my touch, his body pulsing heat that still lingered in his leather cut. It, too, smelled of him. Strong, masculine and wild. His sweat hugged every inch of him. And now me.

His taste was poison itching trough me, burning raw in its path because it was always so cold inside my heart.

His lips were soft, but his kiss demanded the attention of my own. A black chaotic fire simmered in my blood from the flavor of him. His hands gentle when I wanted them to be hard on my waist, his breath slow and measured when I needed him to rasp and growl down my throat.

His kiss was sweet in the sense that it shouldn’t have been.

He was an infection I wanted in my veins, an obscure heroin like no other.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He pulled back and buried his face in my hair. “You’re a pissy fuckin’ kid.” He grunted. “A boy. Barely even legal.” He still held me to him, swayed with me while Amy Lee’s voice haunted the club with her cover of ‘With or Without You’ by U2.

I couldn’t resist. I knew the darkness, the things that truly lurked in the shadows of the night. Evils that would make men shriek like little children in horror. A fear I had met, and stared back at countless times. A Fear that had only one thing to fear…

Me.

And yet, as I restated my cheek on his large chest, felt him breathe, heard the life pulse in his blood while I shuddered when his hands threaded into my hair and his fingers claimed my locks in barbaric fists. He held me hard against his torso… I felt frightened and protected within his embrace.

 _He_ didn’t numb the darkness… He killed it… Drained and squeezed it, completely nullified it from me… In fact, the darkness was terrified of him.

“You should go,” he murmured and pulled away.

I stared up into his rigid gaze. He had such old eyes, a soft amber stained with dark tendrils of gray smoke, his dull blond hair just long enough for his tattooed and scarred fingers to swim through.

I smiled at him.

He was swift as he pressed up against me again, shoved my knees apart and reached around to cup my ass while his right hand groped my neck in tight clutch. He lifted me, holding me close and kissed me again, hard, hungry, testing my mouth to the point I tasted my own blood in the kiss while his beard left its mark on my skin.

“Get goin’, peanut. You don’t belon’ here.” He released me, turned and— I grabbed his hand, and he turned to me. I felt in that moment, he had to know. I had to say one last thing, not because I always need to have the last word, but as a form of admiration, one he would never understand. I leaned into him, pressing my hand to his chest, feeling that beautiful heart under breastbone pulsated in chaotic rhythm. I pushed up on my Convers, “You have no idea how powerful you are.” And kissed him on the cheek.

I watched him walked away. His face blood red in primordial anger. He grabbed a slender, beautiful tattooed brunet—showing very little skin with only her corset and leather miniskirt—and slung her along with him. His steps were rushed as he was slowed by the crowd until they disappeared behind the back door that read RESTRICTED.

And I still smiled, even as I left the club, even knowing he was going to bend that woman over and quench his desire inside her because I had felt it pressing against me the whole time he had examined my mouth.

And through it all, as crazy as it seemed, I knew why I did what I did, acted how I had… because for the first time since this destiny was shoved down my throat, for the first time in one year as I battled the demons, the vampires and the darkness of this world… for the first time, I felt human again.

 


End file.
